Sand and Water
by flashpenguin
Summary: Morgan's reflections on his parterning with Emily and how he feels about funerals. Fifth in the "Bluer Than Blue Series".


_**Derek's story. **_

_**Fifth in the "Bluer Than Blue Series" follows "Vole", "Tonight I Wanna Cry", "Chasing The Moon", and "I Miss My Friend".**_

_**Song Prompt: "Sand and Water" by Beth Nielsen Chapman**_

_**Special thanks to Michaela for your obsession with "Charmed" and helping me find the perfect song.**_

_**I don't own Criminal Minds.**_

**Sand and Water**

Derek Morgan hated funerals. He always had. Ever since he could remember, he hated being in church and sitting quietly while people talked and remembered someone. Therapists would say that it started when he had to attend his father's funeral, but it went further back than that. If he closed his eyes, he could remember going to his great aunt's funeral when he was four or five. He remembered the weeping and wailing from the female members on his father's side and the way the reverend had exalted the life of the woman lying in the casket in front of the altar.

He remembered the singing and laughter and the way everyone shouted for God to throw open the gates of heaven and let this wonderful, loving lady in and embrace her in the arms of love, and it confused him. He didn't know which woman they were talking about, but it couldn't be the one lying in the mahogany box, clutching a bunch of roses over her chest. She had been a hateful woman who had never had a kind word for him or his sisters. She had never come over to his parents' house and never sent him a thank you card after he made her a Christmas card at preschool. How could they praise her so wonderfully after what she had said to his mother on their last visit to see her at her house?

At that moment, he hated funerals and vowed to never attend one again.

But that was easier said than done when his father was murdered in cold blood. He had to be the man of the house and stand proud and tall as he was handed his father's service hat and his mother received the flag that draped the casket. Every now and then he dreamt the 21 gun salute and woke up in a cold sweat.

And he decided then there no more funerals, but when you were a young kid growing up in the south side of Chicago, well, funerals were a part of life. He stopped counting how many he had attended by the time he left for college. Needless to say that if he ever went back to his high school reunion, he could possibly be the only one attending…save for the couple of teachers who hadn't retired or moved away. For the first time in his life he had a stretch where he had not attended one funeral.

So, what was he thinking when he joined the Chicago PD? He had grown up in one of the worst cities in the modern world and hated funerals, so what possessed him to don a blue service uniform and badge and become a target? Okay, so he thought he could make a difference. Hell, anyone who raised their hand would admit that. Unfortunately, after laying five of his brothers in blue to rest in a three year period, he was more than ready when the FBI knocked on his door.

He had a unique skill they desperately needed in a world bordering on the edge of destruction and collapse. He wished he could still play football, but being able to defuse a bomb in his sleep was just as good - if not equally thrilling.

And besides, FBI agents had a longer life span than cops. Unless they were Derek Morgan. Okay, he hated funerals so why was he always the hot dog running into the burning building or driving an ambulance full of explosives to the middle of no where? Because he never wanted a family to go thru what he did when he lost his father. He would protect his family with his last breath.

So, what had he done wrong that caused Emily Prentiss to lose her life? Why was he the one sitting in the pew listening to the priest chanting in Latin and swinging incense while she lay in the satin lined white and gold casket? The lid was down and covered with lilies of the valley - her favourite flower.

How had he remembered that small bit of trivia? But he remembered every little thing about her: her love of Vonnegut, her self-proclaimed nerdiness, her love of Italian food, her fixation with Splenda, her wicked sense of humour, and inability to hold her liquor. Tiny quirks out of a hundred more that made Emily who she was.

Was.

He couldn't think of her in the past tense. It was too much to bear that he was reason she was gone. He should have gone in first. He should have pulled rank and told her stand back and taken lead. Why had he cowered to her when she got up in his face and defied him? Why hadn't he been her partner that fateful morning? The bullet wouldn't have hit so high and he would have walked away. Instead…

The soft weeping of JJ and Penelope reached his ears. Grabbing Pen's hand, he held it tight. He wasn't there, he argued, he wasn't sitting in a pew listening to people exalt the life of a woman he loved like a sister. A woman he wondered if under different circumstances he would have asked out.

But the reality of the moment hit as he watched Hotch made his way to the podium. The soft squeak of his dress shoes echoed through the spacious cathedral. Hotch opened his mouth to talk, but Morgan didn't hear a word.

His turn was coming shortly - he was scheduled to follow after Dave and JJ - but what could he say? He could smooth talk the hot looking, sweet young thing at the bar. He could talk his way out standing in a room with an UNSUB strapped with plastiques and a thumb on the detonator. Hell, he could even talk his way out of the umpteenth embarrassing "when are you giving me grandbabies" talk with his mother.

But he was at a loss when it came to describing his partner - his beautiful, door kicking, butt whipping, combat boot wearing nerd of a partner and one of the most perfect women he had ever known. There was no way he was going to stand up there and be able to say what was in his heart. Everything that was being said right now as all that should have been said when she was able to hear it. It wasn't fair. He couldn't do it.

He had let her down so many times…he had abandoned her when she was desperately trying to figure out who had killed her friend. He had left her hanging when he should have had her back. Rossi had chewed him out after all was said and done. He should have apologized, but he couldn't. He had been wrong and he wanted to forget it and move on. And since she never brought it up, that made it easier for him.

Of course it didn't stop there. He never trusted her to be able to take care of herself and blamed her for putting her life in danger during the compound siege. He was always doubting her and questioning her. But deep down inside, he had cared about her - though he would never have said the words out loud. That wasn't who he was. And now he was contrite because he had never told her what she meant to him.

He had been proud of her and honoured to be her partner. He should have delved deeper into her past and tried to talk to her. But would that have made a difference? He was right when he had told Gideon that they deserved to keep a secret or two to themselves when their lives were open books to everyone. Still, he should have done something…

But there was no way he was going up to the podium. How could he when his heart was breaking in two? For the first time in his life, he was admitting that he was a chicken. And then a shiver when over him.

He could feel her - she was rolling her eyes at him. He could hear her in his ear laughing at him. She was egging him on to put his money where his muscles were and get up there and talk.

Dave was done. JJ was talking. He heard her voice, but there were no words. He envied how JJ was so strong - always brave in the middle of a fight or a storm. She always knew what to say.

_Quick, Derek, think of something. You took college lit classes and debate. You can come up with something logical and intelligent. What was that sermon at Dad's funeral…? The one about being alone and knowing the one when you see them again…?_

JJ was leaving the podium. He was on. Standing up, he let go of Pen's hand and straightened his suit jacket. Slowly he walked up the steps to the podium. He could feel the eyes of the crowded cathedral looking at him.

Quickly he flicked his eyes toward his mother and the Ambassadors Prentiss. Then he looked at his team - his family and saw the empty space between Reid and JJ out of respect for their fallen sister.

Reaching up, he slid two fingers under his shirt collar and cleared his throat as the sermon from long ago came back.

"A wise man once told me that solid stone is just sand and water and a million years gone by…"


End file.
